Broken City by Various Authors

Author:Various Authors
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-06-02T10:51:01+00:00

RITES OF BINDING

GARETH HANRAHAN

They found the first victim inside an air duct, but not until the stench of decay had forever permeated the building. The second, sealed inside a barrel in a storage yard. The third walled up in a cellar – no, that was the fourth. The third… the third…

Varo couldn’t recall offhand where they found the third. Or the fifth, or sixth, or seventh. It didn’t matter.

At last, Varo had found him.

The rabble, with their febrile imaginings, had given the killer a host of absurd, almost mystical nicknames – the Cager, the Gravedigger, Lord Snuff – but to Probator Varo, he was Case AL-41492/MA/A3/1935312, and warranted no other title.

‘Stand ready,’ he whispered into his vox-bead. Two dozen sanctioners tensed themselves at his command, slavering beasts tugging at the leash. The hab-unit was surrounded. All routes of escape blocked. 1935312 would soon be in custody. Another case solved, another mystery unveiled to reveal the sordid truth within. No doubt 1935312 would turn out to be just another broken madman, hiding his victims like some animals bury their droppings.

‘Wait for my signal.’ Varo peered through his magnoculars. Rain on the groundcar window warped the outside world, making the street-lumens bloom like novas. He watched an old man push through the crowds on the street, back bent under the burden of a heavy knapsack, acid rain dripping from the wide brim of his hat. ‘Secondary target approaching the hab.’

It was one of the gutter-scum who gave the vital tip-off. The wretches climbing on each other in feral desperation, selling out their neighbours. The informant thought he was reporting a shelter-thief, a vagrant squatting in a hab, not giving away the location of the infamous 1935312. Typical, reflected Varo, run down every lead, every tiresome dead-end lead – endless labour, and all to no avail – until some idiot happenstance drops the solution in your lap.

‘Make sure to detain the primary target,’ ordered Varo. He glanced at the sanctioner master-sergeant in the seat next to him. ‘They do understand what ‘detain’ means, yes? He may be responsible for other disappearances, master-sergeant. Even I cannot interrogate a corpse, so – detain.’

‘They know,’ grunted Hult, but there was a pistol in his hand, not a stun-stick.

‘Remind them.’

Hult scowled and activated his vox. ‘All units, suspects are to be detained. By order of Probator Varo.’

‘That grox-hole,’ responded one of the enforcers, not realising it was an open line. ‘Thinks he’s the Emperor’s gift to–’ Hult quickly silenced the vox.

‘See that your officer is disciplined for that insolence,’ ordered Varo. Hult grunted, but did not acknowledge the order.

On the street outside, the old man struggled to unlock the front door, juggling his bags awkwardly as he tried to reach the lock. He opened the door, held it open with one foot and–

‘Now,’ ordered Varo, and the street erupted. A Bulwark rolled around the corner, disgorging one squad of sanctioners, while a second squad poured out of smaller Rampart-cars and from alleyways. More approached from the far side of the hab-complex, covering every exit.

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